Q & A
by delightful-fear
Summary: John wants to get the attention of a woman studying psychiatry, so he convinces Sherlock to do a simple 2 hour question and answer session with him for her research. They've known each other for years. Surely they won't learn anything new about each other, will they?
1. Chapter 1

John was humming to himself as he entered the living room. He settled onto the sofa with his laptop.

Sherlock gave him a searching look before turning back to his papers. "New woman?"

It was still surprising to John how easily Sherlock could read him, even after all these years. "An old one, actually." It felt good to contradict Sherlock a little.

Arching an eyebrow, Sherlock gave him a look of distaste. "Really? Given up chasing after the fast ones, and going for the ones with bad hips now? Should Mrs. Hudson be warned?"

John gave a small huff at his friend. "I meant it's a woman I've known for many years."

"And somehow think things have changed enough she'll give you another chance." Sherlock nodded, his tone dismissive.

John was used to Sherlock's attitude towards his dating life. He was never encouraging and rarely kept their names straight. John usually kept contact between his dates and Sherlock to the absolute minimum. Hardly told Sherlock much about them anymore.

This time it was a little different. "Sarah Sawyer. We all went to the Chinese Circus together."

"Did she ever forgive you for that?" Sherlock quickly asked.

John shrugged. Sure, she had been tied up and almost killed at one point, but she seemed to have rebounded from it. "Yes, Sherlock. We dated for several months after that."

"So, what has changed that you are pursuing her again?" Sherlock grumbled, not really sounding interested.

John chose his words carefully. He had to get Sherlock intrigued. "Things never felt finished with her, you know what I mean? Anyways, she is studying now to become a psychiatrist."

"Pointless."

John ignored the comment, charging forward. "She gave me a test I thought you might like to try."

"My IQ is 5 points above Einstein's."

Sighing, John shook his head. "No, it's a test we would do together. But never mind, you look busy. Maybe we could try it later." He turned to make some tea for them both.

By the time he set a hot mug by Sherlock, he could tell the berk was squirming with questions. John calmly sat down and flipped through a magazine.

"What does the test involve?"

John lowered his magazine. "Just a list of 36 questions we both answer in sequence, telling the answers to each other. It takes about two hours and we could do it here, and send her the video afterwards." He kept his tone casual, trying to sound like he didn't care.

Of course, it was the complete opposite. He was jumping at this chance to impress Sarah again, giving her good study data for her research. When they had run into each other at a physician conference, John had been struck by how attractive she still was, and was pretty certain he saw a spark of interest in her eyes as well.

"What kind of questions?"

John tried not to grin in response. It was almost like pulling in a big fish; once hooked, you had to draw him in little by little.

"I haven't looked at them. Sarah said they would show how well we knew each other." He aimed for nonchalance.

Sherlock scoffed. "After living with you for years, I know everything about you. Too much, really."

"Same here." John laughed. "We would probably zip through the questions in half the normal time."

He could tell that worked. Sherlock never could resist a challenge. He sat up straighter, his eyes focused on John. "Let's do it. Do you have time now?"

John got up, looking around. "Yes. I'll just have to set up the camera."

Twenty-three minutes later, John had things in place. He moved the two armchairs to be a little closer to the coffee table, and the camera captured that half of the living room well.

"OK, let's sit down and get going. Sherlock, I've set it up so we can move around. You can sit on the sofa or your chair." John pulled out his phone, and opened the email attachment from Sarah.

Sherlock sat in his chair, crossing his legs, and looking like he usually did in a dress shirt and trousers, with his robe open over it all.

John did a quick check of his clothes, making sure he hadn't dripped tea on his shirt and that it was tucked in neatly. With a small exhale, he hit the record button and sat down in his armchair.

"Hi there. This is John Watson and Sherlock Holmes, and we will be running through the questions for your study." He gave the date and time, and then turned back to Sherlock.

Grinning a little nervously, he just hoped Sherlock would behave and take the study seriously. He wanted to have a good video to send to Sarah.

Swallowing hard, John read out the first question. **"Given the choice of anyone in the world, whom would you want as a dinner guest?"**

Sherlock shrugged. "Sir Isaac Newton."

John laughed. "I think it has to be someone alive."

"Boring." Sherlock scoffed. "Fine. Stephen Hawking."

"Does he even eat? I don't think he's able, in his condition." John had seen other people with advanced ALS and they were usually tube fed.

Rolling his eyes, Sherlock huffed impatiently. "I think the intent of the question is who you would like to converse with in a casual social setting for an evening. In that case, whether or not he is chewing on some Welsh rarebit while we do so hardly seems the essential component. I would enjoy an evening of discussing theoretical physics with him."

John considered stopping the video and starting over. This was hardly a good way to begin the session. But after a moment's consideration, he shrugged. Sarah knew Sherlock, and had seen him bickering with John like this before. She knew it was typical.

"I would pick my friend Alex. He is still stationed overseas and it's hard to keep in touch." John answered.

 **"Would you like to be famous? In what way?"** John read out, thinking about how to answer. "Well, we have the blog and have steady clients. We've been in the paper a few times. I think the level we have is enough. Wouldn't want to be famous enough that people stared at us when we went to the pub."

Sherlock looked at him inquiringly. "Yet you sometimes seem a bit put out when people know who I am, and don't know you." He looked up for a second. "I don't think being too well known is effective for a private investigator."

John was tempted to debate what Sherlock had said, but decided to leave it for later. They were being recorded and had a lot of questions to get through.

 **"Before making a telephone call, do you ever rehearse what you are going to say? Why?"** John lowered the phone. "Hmmmm...No, I just wing it."

Sherlock nodded. "If it's for a case, I'll research the person beforehand, and vary my approach to get the information I want."

John was relieved that some of the questions were easy to answer like that one. **"What would constitute a "perfect" day for you?"** He chuckled after reading it out. This one could be interesting.

"I'd say a day when I'm able to see a lot of patients, and feel I've really helped them. Then going out for a good meal with friends, joking around, and flirting with the server. Coming back here to work on the blog, or help you with a case." John shrugged.

Sherlock made a disgusted sound. "Bollocks. Are you going to give such sanitized answers to all the questions? If so, this is a bloody waste of time." He got up, and walked as far as the kitchen before spinning around. He sat down on the sofa, facing John with a challenging look in his eye. "Your perfect day would be waking up with a woman for a round of morning sex, then barely making it to work on time. You would help patients, but be madly text flirting with the woman on breaks. When I text you later to meet me at a crime scene, you happily help me chase criminals half the night before grabbing some Thai takeaway and crashing in bed after midnight."

John chuckled at the description, which was almost exactly had happened a couple weeks ago. It had been great, even though he hardly could stay awake at work the next day. He'd had many days like that since moving in with Sherlock.

"My perfect day would be solving a great case." Sherlock said simply.

"Bollocks." John snapped back with a grin. "It's a challenging, locked door, double murder that rates a 9 or higher on your arbitrary scale, ending with a good chase over half of London. Then getting praised heartily by everyone for how brilliant you were to figure it out. Or getting some strange body part to do experiments on from Molly."

Sherlock grinned back at his friend, not denying the truth of what John said.

 **"When did you last sing to yourself? To someone else?"** was the next question. It took John a minute to consider it. "Um, last time in front of another person was probably Mike, singing 'I'm Forever Blowing Bubbles'."

Sherlock's brows drew down. "You sing songs to Mike? About bubbles?"

"Sheesh, Sherlock, your knowledge of sport is as bad as the Solar System. It's an old song people have sung at Hammers games for a century or so." John rolled his eyes at his friend.

"It's hard to imagine a whole stadium of soccer hooligans singing a song about bubbles. How does it go?" Sherlock looked intrigued again.

John knew it would be simpler to just sing the damn song than try to get Sherlock to drop the topic.

 _"I'm forever blowing bubbles, pretty bubbles in the air._

 _They fly so high, nearly reach the sky, then like my dreams they fade and die._

 _Fortunes always hiding, I've look everywhere._

 _I'm forever blowing bubbles, pretty bubbles in the air."_

He was probably blushing by the time he finished singing, and hoped the camera wouldn't pick it up.

"That song is horrendous." Sherlock said bluntly.

John wasn't surprised. He shrugged. "It's tradition, and hilarious when a few thousand drunk men sing it at a game." He doubted Sherlock would even understand the fun of hanging out with one's mates like that, getting caught up in an exciting match. "What about you? Any awful Eton or uni song you sing with your school mates in eight part harmony?" Somehow he couldn't picture it.

Sherlock gave an elegant shrug. "I can't recall the last time I sang with other people, but I have had a song stuck in my head for a few weeks and keep singing it in the shower."

"Really? I never heard you." John laughed in surprise.

"Well, I'm hardly belting it out." Sherlock smirked, enjoying shocking his friend a little.

John smiled in return. "Well, come on then. You made me sing about blowing bubbles. Your turn to sing now."

With a huff, Sherlock sat back on the sofa, crossing his legs.

 _"And now you know I can't smile without you._

 _I can't smile without you._

 _I can't laugh and I can't sing._

 _I'm finding it hard to do anything._

 _You see I feel sad when you're sad._

 _I feel glad when you're glad._

 _If you only knew what I'm going through._

 _I just can't smile."_

John chuckled, moving to the edge of his chair. "After all these years together, are you saying you are a Spurs fan?"

Sherlock looked confused. "What are you talking about?"

"That song! It's by Barry Manilow and Tottenham fans sing it." John searched Sherlock's face, but could see he wasn't familiar with the connection.

Looking a little uncomfortable, Sherlock shifted under John's gaze. "Um, I think I heard it when you were watching a match on the Telly a few weeks ago. It's been stuck in my head since then."

John nodded, piecing things together. "West Ham played Tottenham then. You probably heard the fans singing it."

"Is this really what we should be doing for the study? Singing ridiculous songs and talking about football?" Sherlock clearly wanted to move things along.

Knowing he would be teasing Sherlock later about the song, John let it go now. "The next question is an easy one. **If you were able to live to the age of 90 and retain either the mind or body of a 30-year-old for the last 60 years of your life, which would you want?** "

"Obviously the mind for both of us." Sherlock said quickly.

John nodded in agreement. Although Sherlock said he didn't care about his 'transport', he took pretty good care of it. He was forty now, but still slim and fit enough to chase down suspects without seeming very out of breath.

 **"Do you have a secret hunch about how you will die?"** John read out, and waited for Sherlock to respond.

"Oh, heroically, I'm sure. Falling off a waterfall fighting my nemesis, or something like that." Sherlock quipped, obviously not wanting to delve deep into that one.

John laughed along. "I thought many times that I would die on the battlefield. I'm surprised it didn't happen that way." He paused, thinking how to answer. "Now, it will be probably extremely unheroic, foolishly following you into something dangerous or trying to jump between buildings."

Sherlock waved a dismissive hand. "Perfectly safe. I do it all the time."

"But in the thrill of the chase, you forget your legs are a half foot longer than mine." John gave a little glare at the berk before looking back at his phone. They had had enough fights about that in the past. Sherlock would whizz over fences, hop over barricades like an Olympic gymnast, and then holler at John to hurry up when he fell behind trying to clamber over the obstacles.

 **"Name three things you and your partner appear to have in common."** John paused to think, still feeling a bit irked at Sherlock. "That we are flatmates, like Mrs. Hudson, and like a hot curry."

Sherlock got up and moved to his armchair, looking at John from this closer distance. "We both like the sound of a good violin concerto, the thrill of the chase, and cuddling during a storm."

John's eyes widened at that, and flicked over to the camera. _Shite. What would Sarah make of that?_

It had been a strange situation, after all. They had been on a case, around 1 am in a bad part of town, when it had started to pour. There were no taxis around, no businesses open, nowhere to go to get out of the rain or dry off.

Sherlock had yanked John into the partial shelter of a doorway, huddling together in the deepest corner to avoid the rain. They were already so wet, and it didn't show signs of letting up. John had slicked the water from his face and hair as best as he could, watching Sherlock do the same. Sherlock had ended up with his wet curls finger combed back from his face, making his face look even more angular.

The rain had trickled down John's collar, and he shivered in his damp clothes, just hoping the rain would end soon, and they could go home.

Sherlock must have noticed the shiver, and he tugged John near, wrapping his Belstaff around them both. It was warmer against Sherlock, so he let go of his normal inhibitions, cuddling closer. A few minutes later, he felt Sherlock's arms tighten around him, and his cheek pressed against his forehead.

They stood like that for a long time, the only sounds were the heavy rainfall nearby, and their breathing. A timeless bubble that was just the two of them. John didn't even think the whole time, just so aware of Sherlock, dominating every sense. Only seeing and hearing him. Feeling his warmth, his body so close, surrounding John. Smelling his damp skin. Skin so close he could lean in and press his lips to his neck. Taste him.

Eventually the rain eased, and they made jokes to diffuse the tension as they left. John still felt awareness of Sherlock thrumming along every nerve on the long taxi ride home. They had never spoken about it.

Until now. He looked back at Sherlock, and could see he was remembering that night. Had he thought about it as often as John had?

 **"For what in your life do you feel most grateful?"** John continued with the questions, not sure what else to do. These questions were slowly getting more personal. He tried lightening the mood. "Well, I'm bloody grateful to still be alive! Between being in the army and now working with you, you'd think I had a death wish."

Sherlock gave a quick smile in response, before his expressions sobered again. "I'm most grateful that you came into my life, John. You have changed me in so many ways."

John nodded in agreement. Sherlock had certainly done the same for him also.

 **"If you could change anything about the way you were raised, what would it be?"** John looked down at the rug. "Harry." He looked up, meeting Sherlock's jade green eyes. "When our parents died in that crash, I was too self-involved in my own grief. I didn't see how hard it was hitting her, how lost she was. Didn't see how much she was drinking, that it was a problem, for years."

Sherlock shook his head, moving forward to sit on the edge of his chair. "John, you were both teenagers, dealing with a terrible loss. And a lot of young people drink heavily in their twenties."

"I should have spent more time with her, given her a chance to talk, found her support. If I had done it back then, maybe she wouldn't have become an alcoholic." John felt some tears escaping, and Sherlock passed him a real handkerchief. He half-chuckled that Sherlock still carried them, dabbing at his eyes.

Sherlock straightened up. "Well, if I could change anything about my upbringing, it would be to have taken singing lessons instead of the violin. You heard me. I would have been great!"

Even though he knew Sherlock was trying to cheer him up, John found himself smiling back. "Sherlock Holmes Sings Barry Manilow's Hits."

"Exactly!" Sherlock gave John the grin he loved the best, the unreserved whole face one when his eyes crinkled up. "I'm going to make some more tea." He jumped up, taking the tea things with him, and banged around in the kitchen.

Shaking his head, John got up to check the video. The audio and visuals seemed fine. He could hear Sherlock singing _"Her name was Lola, she was a showgirl..."_ as he went down to the loo.

XXX

-Disclaimer: I own nothing.

-A/N: This fic is three chapters long and complete. I'll post some notes about the study after the last chapter.


	2. Chapter 2

**"Take four minutes and tell your partner your life story in as much detail as possible."** John read out the question as they settled back with fresh mugs of tea.

Sherlock spoke up as John was thinking. "You probably know it all already. Went to Eton, finished uni with a graduate level in chemistry, and felt pretty lost. My twenties are a blur of drugs and sex, having no idea what to do with my life. Lestrade probably got sick of seeing me at the police station, and sent me some cold cases to work on during my last court-ordered rehab. By the time the 28 days were up, I had solved five of them. Became a consulting detective and you know the rest."

"I didn't know that about Lestrade. He helped you back then?" John was still reeling from what Sherlock had just said. He knew about the drugs, but sex? With who? Men or women?

Setting down his cup, Sherlock calmly poured more tea and added sugar. "He used to work in Vice, before he was promoted to Homicide. OK, your story now."

John swallowed his tea before starting. "Orphan, Army Doctor, Afghanistan, shoulder injury, here. Dreadfully dull stuff."

"The question said you have four minutes, not 'Tell your life story in ten words or less'." Sherlock huffed. "You have helped thousands of people in your years as a doctor. You are a faithful friend, keeping up with people from all over. You have had ten serious girlfriends, but never a relationship that lasted longer than a year. Why is that?"

John felt flattered at Sherlock's description of his accomplishments, but he couldn't refute that he hadn't had any longer relationships. Even with Mary, they probably wouldn't have stayed together as long as they had if it wasn't for Rosie. "I don't know."

He didn't have problems meeting or flirting with women. His army buddies called him 'Three Continents Watson' based on his ability to get women to go out with him. He enjoyed their company, their conversations, the sex. Why did the relationships all end after those good beginnings? Was he not good enough in bed?

Sherlock nudged his foot with his own. "Come on, wake up...". His grin showed he was only teasing.

 **"If you could wake up tomorrow having gained any one quality or ability, what would it be?"** John read out, his mind still on the last one.

"I'd love to be able to be invisible. It would be wonderful to spy on people, record them saying incriminating things, catch them in the act." Sherlock said without hesitation.

John pictured Sherlock whipping off an invisibility cloak and grabbing some criminals, and couldn't help chuckling at the image. Wanting to keep things light, he said the first thing that popped into his head. "I'd like a huge dick."

Sherlock had been mid-sip when John said that, and he almost choked on his tea. Laughing, he shook his head as he used a napkin to wipe the fluid from his chin. "Your partners seem quite satisfied with what you currently have."

"How would you know?" John asked, and then regretted it. Who knew what Sherlock was reading when he watched John with his dates. He never was very friendly around them.

Sherlock waved a dismissive hand. "The walls are thin, John."

That response was even worse. John knew he was flushing as he thought of the noises he'd made with recent partners.

 **"If a crystal ball could tell you the truth about yourself, your life, the future or anything else, what would you want to know?"** John read out the next question for distraction.

Sherlock tapped his long fingers against his armrest. "You know, sometimes I want to know what you are thinking. I know you so well, but there are times you act strange, or say something strange, and you never explain fully if I ask about it." He paused. "Like when we were at Hyde Park a month ago and you were sun tanning while I searched in the grass for my magnifying glass. By the time I found it, you were all moody and hardly talking to me. Did I take too long finding it or something?"

John rolled his eyes, looking over at the happy face painted on the wall. It had been a lovely summer day, and Rosie had been playing happily with her toys. John had read for a bit, but ended up just lying back and enjoying the sun on his skin. Sherlock had been a little bored and pulled out his pocket magnifying glass to study a bug or something, and somehow lost it in the thick grass.

He then spent the next fifteen minutes searching for it, on his hands and knees, crawling around. In John's sleepy, warm state, he had lazily observed his friend, not bothering to help. But as he watched, his eyes traced over his friend, admiring the tailored cut of his grey pinstriped trousers and the medium blue dress shirt. They showed off his trim torso, his strong legs, and the curve of his ass.

He was only jolted out of his musings when he realized he was getting aroused. Grabbing the diaper bag, he began shoving everything back into it. By the time he had Rosie strapped into her stroller, he had calmed down.

It had just shown that he was over Mary and ready to date again, right? That despite being tired from being a single father, he still had sexual needs. The fact that he was finding his best friend's rump particularly fetching was just a sign that it had been too long, far too long, since he'd been on a date.

He had been so preoccupied with his thoughts he had been a bit abrupt and snappish with Sherlock, and he could tell Sherlock was a bit hurt and confused by it.

"I'm sorry, Sherlock. It wasn't anything you did. I am a bit sleep-deprived trying to manage things with Rosie, and I get moody sometimes." John said soothingly, hoping Sherlock would be mollified.

His friend nodded. "That's why I encouraged you to let the family alternate weekends with her. Give you a break, get some rest, save your sanity."

John nodded. Harry and Clara had Rosie this weekend, and Sherlock's parents were taking her in two weeks. It was a lifesaver, having time to sleep, catch up on cleaning and errands, and just have some time to himself. He had been squeezing as many dates in as he could as well.

"I think I'd use the crystal ball to tell me if it's worth still dating, if I'll ever find my one true love. Someone I can truly share my life with, and stay with forever." John sighed. "I've been dating for thirty years. You'd think I would have found the one for me by now."

"You'll find it. Find love." Sherlock said simply, like it was a foregone conclusion.

John arched an eyebrow his way. "Oh really? Are you an Oracle, with insight into all things?"

Sherlock's lips tightened. "You just need to open your eyes, open your heart. Love is out there for you, if you look in the right place."

Chuckling, John picked up his phone. "You sound like a greeting card, Sherlock." He read out the next question. **"Is there something that you've dreamed of doing for a long time? Why haven't you done it?"** I think I just said it. I really dream of being in a great, love-you-until-death relationship. And I'm looking for the right person. What about you, Sherlock? What do you dream of doing?"

Sherlock was looking at him funny, barely breathing, and John searched his expression for what was going on with his friend. Was he about to say something shocking, like that he wanted to become a burlesque dancer?

Eventually, Sherlock's gaze dropped, his shoulders slumping a little. "Pass."

John almost pushed for an answer, but decided to let it drop. Sherlock was being very open today, and doing John a favor by doing the test at all. **"What is the greatest accomplishment of your life?"**

Thinking back, John shrugged. "I don't know if I've done anything that great. Good accomplishments maybe, like finishing med school, doing all right in the army, recovering well from the injury. Things many other people have done too. Maybe I'll work at just being a great dad for Rosie."

"You undersell yourself, John. You always have." Sherlock sighed. "My accomplishments are the cases. I'm proud of our work. Saving Major Sholto at your wedding was pretty fun."

John shared a smile with his friend, thinking back on all their cases. "It's too bad I can't run around with you as much anymore. Those were great times."

"Well, being a great dad means being there for her, and keeping yourself out of danger."

Sherlock had been surprisingly good with Rosie, calmly taking care of her needs before she worked herself into a cry. His way of reading people seemed just as good with infants as it did with adults. She in turn was besotted with Sherlock, her big blue eyes transfixed on him when he read her stories.

 **"What do you value most in a friendship?"** John chuckled after reading it. "Well, you drive me nuts most of the time, but I love it."

Sherlock scoffed. "You are the only one in the world saying that to me."

"Still mostly 'Piss Off'?" John joked, thinking back to what Sherlock had said when they were first getting to know each other.

Nodding, he obviously remembered the conversation as well. "Mostly."

John smiled, liking that their long time together had them in sync like that, with so many common experiences. **"What is your most treasured memory?** I think mine is when you were the waiter in that restaurant, when you came back."

"You hit me! Repeatedly!" Sherlock immediately shot back, confused and shocked.

"You deserved it!" John said smugly, with no regrets at all. As delighted as he had been that Sherlock was alive, he was still angry at the deception and for the way Sherlock downplayed his feelings over it. "There were a lot of mixed up emotions that day, Sherlock. I was amazed and shocked, happy to see you, mad that you had faked your death and never let me in on the secret. But in the end, it was all worth it to have you back in my life."

"Mine is what you said to me in the train, with the bomb." Sherlock said softly.

"You laughed at me! You let me say all that and then you laughed at me!" John objected.

Sherlock looked a little regretful. "Yes, but you meant those words that you said, and they really stuck with me."

 _You were the best and the wisest man ... that I have ever known...Yes, of course I forgive you._

John blinked quickly at the echo of those words, flashing through his mind. "Um... **What is your most terrible memory?** " He knew it was futile to say anything but the truth. He let out a big breath. "When you jumped."

Sherlock nodded, seeing the pain still in John's eyes, and not looking away from it. "When you married."

His honesty hit John hard and he gasped. Things had been different between them since then, since John left Baker Street to be with Mary. Even though he had moved back after Mary's death, it hadn't been the same between them. Even when Rosie was away for the weekend, there was still something undefinable different.

Part of John just wanted to quit all of this, shut off the camera and escape to his own room. This was too real, too honest, too much. They were halfway through the questions, and they were delving deeper and deeper. What would Sherlock say by the end? What would he say?

The other part of John insisted he stay and finish this. This was bringing up everything from the past, and it was overwhelming. But it needed to be said. Needed to be looked at now, when they had some time, and clear the air. To try living together again like they had no history was foolish.

 _Keep going..._

 **"If you knew that in one year you would die suddenly, would you change anything about the way you are now living? Why?"** John straightened up, looking at Sherlock directly. "Not a thing. I like living here with you and Rosie. You know I revised my will, so there are arrangements in place for her."

Sherlock nodded. "I like having you both here too."

 **"What does friendship mean to you?"** Sheesh, they were both going to be sobbing in each other's arms if the questions kept up like this. "Um, someone who is there in the hard times. That's when you see who true friends are."

Giving a little half smile, Sherlock said, "Putting up with my shit."

"Exactly! Dealing with the hard times." John joked, relieved to lighten things a little. **"What roles do love and affection play in your life?"** Setting the phone down, John thought about it. "I'm lucky. I have Rosie, Harry, Clara, and friends like you, Mrs. Hudson, Greg, Molly, and Mycroft. There's lots of love in my life. You are all like family to me."

Sherlock seemed pleased by that. "You really think of us that way?"

John gave a one shoulder shrug. "Think of who you spend Christmas and other holidays with. That's family. And now your parents too...I've spent a few Christmases with them as well."

"You are right. I never really thought of it like that before." Sherlock seemed lost in his thoughts.

John got up. "Let's take a little break before we do the last batch of questions. Stretch our legs." He gathered up the tea things and carried them to the kitchen.

Sherlock stood, stretching, and ambled to the loo. When he came out, John could hear him humming 'I can't smile without you'.

XXX

-Disclaimer: I own nothing.


	3. Chapter 3

**"Alternate sharing something you consider a positive characteristic of your partner. Share a total of five items."**

John groaned after reading that question out. "Oh God, you are already cocky enough as it is. Do you really need more compliments?"

With a smirk, Sherlock plonked down on the sofa, stretching out the whole length of it. "Ooooh! This damn survey is finally getting to the good stuff. Please get started, John." He looked entirely too pleased with himself.

Rolling his eyes, John sat on the upholstered chair with wooden legs that they rarely used. It was closer to the sofa. "We have to alternate saying things. I'll go first. You always look good."

Sherlock grinned, looking pleased. He always loved getting compliments, especially from John. "Really?"

"Well, you spend a fortune on your clothes and hair products, so at least the results are worth it." John chuckled.

"My turn then." Sherlock pondered a second. "Your jumpers are awful..."

John sighed. "Didn't you hear the instructions? You are supposed to list _positive_ characteristics, Sherlock."

"You didn't let me finish." Sherlock snapped playfully. "Your jumpers are awful...but I've come to like them on you. They are very ... 'John'."

Tempted to roll his eyes again, John pushed on instead. "I've said it before, but here I go again. You are brilliant."

"I never tire of hearing that." Sherlock smile was wide and happy. "You are humble."

John lowered his brows. "Is that a dig?" Was Sherlock going to subtly insult him instead of compliment him?

"No, no...". Sherlock paused, searching for an explanation. "You know yourself, your limits, and you are good at what you do. There's a quiet confidence about you."

"Oh." Well, that sounded better than humble. He would take that. "You have sharp eyes. You see so much detail."

Nodding, Sherlock looked at John closer. "Like how you blush or look away with some questions?"

"Yes." John flushed slightly at previous questions, glad that even if Sherlock saw he was uncomfortable, he didn't always know why.

"I like those reactions. They intrigue me. You intrigue me." Sherlock was still giving him a searching look.

John tapped his leg, thinking. "OK, for the fourth thing I'll say that I like that you aren't greedy."

"You know I just need the work, the money isn't important to me." Sherlock said dismissively.

"You don't flaunt your money, aside from dressing well, and you don't overcharge clients." John said, and leaned back in his chair.

Sherlock looked curiously at John. "Is that such a rare thing?"

"Sadly yes." John said. "You help people without really meaning to, as a result of solving a case. You see beyond the bad surface to the good person below, like with Mrs. Hudson and Angelo, making them very loyal to you. People without perfect pasts."

"I have a far from perfect past as well." Sherlock said wearily.

John gave a half-smile at that. "No doubt cleared off your records by your brother though. The fifth characteristic is…hmmm…that I admire that you have stopped doing drugs and smoking. It's not an easy thing to do."

Sherlock didn't look impressed by that. "I still crave them often."

"Why did you stop smoking?" John asked out of pure curiousity.

"You didn't approve."

"That matters that much?" John didn't think Sherlock listened to half of his complaints.

Sherlock nodded. "I do many things differently because of you. You value being good more than I do, and it keeps me in line."

"OK, OK…" John was never sure how much of what Sherlock said could be believed. "Tell me one more positive characteristic to finish off this question."

"I like that you make sounds when you are reading."

John gave a half-laugh. "I do not!"

Sherlock tilted his chin up a little. "You do. You laugh occasionally, or give out a little hum of contentment. I can hear them when you are reading in here and I'm in the kitchen, working on the microscope."

"And you like them? Aren't they distracting?"

Sherlock gave a small private smile. "It's comforting, knowing you are nearby."

 **"How close and warm is your family? Do you feel your childhood was happier than most other people's?"**

John tried not to think of his childhood that often. "Well, my father worked long hours, and my mother drank and had affairs. Harry and I weren't that important to them, so we fended for ourselves a lot, and grew close because of it."

"My family doesn't sound much better. I grew up with a far smarter brother and sister, feeling like I was never quite good enough. I didn't really relate to kids my age." Sherlock said with surprising openness.

"You must have been lonely." John was still trying to imagine what it would be like having Eurus as a sister. He didn't know her like he did Mycroft.

Sherlock sat up on the sofa, his earlier gaiety subdued. "I turned to books, science and nature. Learned about anything I could. It probably wasn't any lonelier than your childhood."

"I turned to friends at school, playing football, and girls."

 **"How do you feel about your relationship with your mother?"**

"We are getting into the deeper questions now, aren't we?" John joked after reading that one. "Well, as I said before, she was either drunk or unavailable."

Sherlock pinned him with a direct look. "Do you think that bleeds over into how you feel about women now? That they are undependable and unavailable?"

John sighed. "I don't think so. I've dated many women over the years, intelligent women with good jobs and no substance abuse issues. I'm not repeating old patterns, am I?"

"You know my mother now. What do you think she made of her children?" Sherlock asked dryly.

Sherlock's mother was a sweet woman in her mid-seventies. Although she was a genius mathematician, her husband didn't match her intellectual level, and she loved him enough to still marry him and seemed happy enough. John felt very comfortable leaving Rosie with Sherlock's parents for an occasional weekend.

"I'm sure she related to your intelligence, and encouraged it, but it must have been a lot to keep the peace between the three of you." John shuddered at the thought.

"She did her best." Sherlock seemed to agree with John's assessment.

 **"Make three true "we" statements each. For instance, 'We are both in this room feeling ... '"**

John let out a half-laugh. "We are both scared of the last few questions."

"We are both scared of revealing too much." Sherlock replied quickly.

"Afraid of endangering our friendship." John sat forward in his chair.

"We are both feeling that some alcohol would help…give us some deniability tomorrow."

John's eyes flicked over to the kitchen, considering if he should pour them some drinks, but decided against it. He wanted the truth. "Um…" He looked around the room, trying to think of another answer. "We are both thinking that this flat is a mess and we need a cleaner."

Sherlock scoffed. "…or another bomb."

John chuckled at that. **"Complete this sentence: 'I wish I had someone with whom I could share ... '"**.

It felt like they had been doing these questions for ages, but a quick look at the clock showed it had only been a little over an hour. John swallowed hard. "Um, I think we already share a lot. The flat, taking care of Rosie, our work…"

"Then why are you always dating so much, John?" Sherlock asked.

The question had come out of the blue, and John looked back at his friend, blinking slowly as he tried to figure out what Sherlock meant by that. Did he resent that John dated? Did he think John shouldn't date anyone at all?

When John didn't reply, Sherlock gave a scoff and grabbed John's mobile to read out the next question. **"If you were going to become a close friend with your partner, please share what would be important for him or her to know."** His green eyes captured John's. "Well, I think we are as close as friends can be. I was your best man at your wedding, after you proclaimed I was your best friend. But you know how these things work better than I do."

John smiled. "That is true."

Grabbing the phone back, John read out the next question. **"Tell your partner what you like about them; be very honest this time, saying things that you might not say to someone you've just met."**

Letting out a deep breath, John held his friend's gaze. "Sherlock, I like that you are so unique. You are like no other man I've ever met."

Sherlock seemed to like that answer. "I like that you like me as I am. Accept me. Few do."

"Idiots." John gave him a fond smile, and felt pleased when Sherlock gave him one back.

 **"Share with your partner an embarrassing moment in your life."**

John thought about it. "I don't think it's one moment, but a lot of small similar ones. All the times we are together, working on a case, and people just think I'm your Personal Assistant or some hanger-on. Or misconstrue our relationship. I feel like I'm always on the defensive."

"You know I never present you as anything but my work partner. Should I do something differently?" Sherlock asked, but John shook his head in reply. "Well, my most embarrassing moment was that night my trousers tore."

Giving a weak chuckle, John smiled at Sherlock to show he remembered that night. It had been a few years ago, before Sherlock faked his death, before Mary. Back when they were just flatmates and working a lot of cases.

Sherlock had gone over a fence and snagged his trousers in a chase, and instead of stopping to work it free, gave it a hard tug that put a big rip down one leg. John had kept running behind him, somehow fascinated at the pale flashes of skin as Sherlock ran. Small peaks that was somehow a bit of a tease. A bit erotic.

They caught the criminal, and the police had bugged Sherlock mercilessly about the tear. John had smiled along, trying to act normal, but inside he felt anything but that. He thought about making the tear even bigger, tearing clothes right off of Sherlock, pushing his hand inside the rip to touch and explore. It had awakened many, many ideas, and John tried hard to push them out of his mind.

 **"When did you last cry in front of another person? By yourself?"**

John sighed. "Well, I think the last time was on your birthday. We were talking about Mary, and how I cheated on her, texting that woman from the bus."

"Well, it's only natural that you cried about that. You were mourning Mary still. I'm glad you talked to me about it. That you let me comfort you." Sherlock's voice was a bit rough, and hearing that made John's eyes sting again.

He blinked hard, trying to keep the tears from starting. "My feelings about Mary were such a mess. Frankly, I cried more after your suicide than over Mary. Should I feel guilty over that, or have I just become more hardened over the years?"

Sherlock let out a deep breath. "I think you felt guiltier over my suicide than over Mary's death. Mary jumped in front of the bullet to save me. It happened too fast for you to do anything."

"And I was dealing with your suicide on my own. With Mary, I had more people to support me, to help with Rosie, keeping me from dwelling on it."

 **"Tell your partner something that you like about them already."**

John groaned after reading the question aloud. "Oh god, didn't we already have this question?"

Leaning forward, Sherlock gave John a fascinated look. "I like the day eep blue of your eyes, and when you sit in the sunlight, it brings out the gold in your eyelashes and hair." He topped the act off with a quick fluttering of his eyelashes.

John played along. "No, you have everything in the looks department. Those amazing eyes that are sometimes green, sometimes blue. Your hair, the way it curls...". He lifted his hand like he was going to touch Sherlock's hair.

Giving a mischievous grin, Sherlock switched his expression to one of pure adoration. "Oh, please go on, John..."

Rolling his eyes, John chuckled as he gave Sherlock a hard push.

 **"What, if anything, is too serious to be joked about?"**

John was still chuckling at Sherlock's antics, and shrugged after reading the question. "Seriously, probably nothing. I was in the army and work in medicine. You need to have a macabre sense of humor to keep your sanity in those fields."

"And I'm not exactly known for being tactful." Sherlock added.

John agreed wholeheartedly there. "Plus, I never know what I'll encounter in the kitchen. It's like a haunted house at the fair without the flashing red lights and fake screams."

"Well, if it ever gets too much for you, we can make up an excuse for you to whip a corpse in the morgue. Great stress reliever." Sherlock added.

John chuckles, but then stopped. "Wait, the day we met you mentioned leaving your riding crop in the mortuary. You didn't...you weren't...?"

Sherlock gave a little shrug, combined with a feigned look of innocence, and it set them both off laughing.

 **"If you were to die this evening with no opportunity to communicate with anyone, what would you most regret not having told someone? Why haven't you told them yet?"**

John let their laughter die down, and looked at his friend with true fondness. "I want to say something, when we aren't about to die due to bombs or one of your arch enemies' plots. Sherlock, you have changed my life around. I was a mess after Afghanistan and you saw I didn't need coddling, saw I needed danger, excitement. You saw me for who I really am, and pushed my limits. You are rude, stubborn, messy and mercurial, but I wouldn't change a thing about you. I'm a better, happier man because you are in my life."

Sherlock sat there, a bit stunned at John's heartfelt words. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He clamped his lips tight, blinking rapidly, and then jumped up. "Sorry...just need a minute...," he murmured thickly as he rushed to the bathroom, and closed the door.

 _Shite. Was that too much? Did I make him completely uncomfortable? Too much sentiment?_

Slowly, John got up, and walked down the hall to the bathroom, hoping Sherlock would emerge on his own before he got there. But he didn't.

"Um...Sherlock," John started, not really sure what to say. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, or said too much. This test has been long, and I've been really amazed at how open you've been with your answers. You've shared so much with me."

There was no answer, and it was quiet inside the bathroom.

"Look, there's only three questions left in the test. I promise we'll keep things lighter for them, OK?" John implored, really hoping this whole foolish test hadn't made them say things better left alone.

He backed off with a dejected sigh, and sunk back into his comforting armchair.

A couple minutes later, he heard the click of the bathroom lock, and felt relieved. He stayed still, and after a few minutes Sherlock sat down in his armchair, crossing his legs. When he flicked his eyes to Sherlock, he gave a wave of his hand to carry on. His expression was blank, giving nothing away.

 **"Your house, containing everything you own, catches fire. After saving your loved ones and pets, you have time to safely make a final dash to save any one item. What would it be? Why?"**

John gave a small chuckle, testing the waters. "What's that saying? 'Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.'"

Sherlock flicked him a questioning look.

Taking it for encouragement to continue, John smiled self-depreciatively. "This flat has been blown up twice already. Do I even have anything of value left to save?"

He felt relieved at Sherlock's answering grin. "You are wise enough to keep your things upstairs and unscathed. I'd say you would save that old cookie tin in your closet if you could."

John supposed he shouldn't be surprised that Sherlock knew about it. Being in the army so many years, he had always travelled light, never owning much. That old tin was full of family pictures, letters, important documents. His past, contained in a beat up tin with a picture of the Dolphin and Mermaid statue, with the Tower Bridge in the background.

"You probably have a tin like that in your bedroom too, I bet. A place you keep things like the mobile of The Woman, and the bullet they dug out of your chest." John said, knowing that Sherlock presented a cool, unemotional facade, but there were things that got past it.

 **"Of all the people in your family, whose death would you find most disturbing? Why?"**

John gave a small huff at the question. "Well, I'm trying to keep things light here, but there are all these questions about house fires and death. So, let me just say I'd find your death the most disturbing. I went through it before, and I won't do it again. You simply aren't allowed to die before me." John crossed his legs, and gave Sherlock a prim, challenging look.

Sherlock gave a little smile at John's demeanor. "I'm flattered you consider me family, John. But do you think it's any easier for me to be away from you?"

John pursed his lips a little in thought. "Shall we make a suicide pact then?"

There was a spark of amusement in Sherlock's eyes, an expression John never tired of seeing. "Excellent idea, Dr. Watson. How shall we do it?"

Dozens of silly ideas raced through John's mind. "Perhaps like in 'Meaning of Life'? Chased by a gang of topless women off a cliff, falling directly into our coffins at our funeral?"

Shaking his head, Sherlock grinned back at John. "Somehow, I pictured being on a tall ship in a horrible but beautiful storm, the power of pure nature tearing the wood into splinters below my feet."

"That's awful! And hard to schedule. Are we just supposed to sail around in a tall ship until a death-worthy storm hits? Sounds dreadfully Byronic." John joked.

Sherlock shrugged. "You always accuse me of being a drama queen."

John scrunched up his face in distaste. "Death by drowning though? Not really my thing."

Sherlock echoed his expression. "Death by topless women? Not really my thing either."

 _Did he just confirm he was gay?_

Laughing, John just pushed the thought away and smiled at his friend. "We'll debate this more later." He was glad they were back to joking around.

"Ok, the very last question. Thanks Sherlock, for doing this with me today." John scrolled to the final question. **"Share a personal problem and ask your partner's advice on how he or she might handle it. Also, ask your partner to reflect back to you how you seem to be feeling about the problem you have chosen."**

Even though he had sworn to keep things light, his mind went back to something that had been brought up several times. As open as they had been tonight, this was probably the best time to discuss it.

"Um...you said so confidently that I'll find love but I think it's hopeless sometimes. I'm a single father now, so that scares some women away and gives me even less time to date." John sighed, running his hand through his hair, before continuing.

"I want it all. I'm greedy. I want to have someone I can take to family holidays, joke around with, eat meals with. Talk about work and support each other. Someone who I can laugh with, enjoy talking with. Someone with their own interests so we can spend time apart, not clingy. Plus, I want sex, intimacy...that connection too. Am I stupid for holding onto this romantic ideal after all these years?"

Sherlock shook his head, and heaved a big sigh. He looked down for a minute, and then met John's eyes, his gaze direct and calm. "I'll answer your question, but first I'll go back and answer that question I skipped earlier. What was it...? 'Is there something that you've dreamed of doing for a long time? Why haven't you done it?'"

John looked down at his phone, scrolling back. "Yeah, that was it."

"Well, this is really, really hard for me. Stand up, ok?" Sherlock got up himself, and motioned John to as well.

John felt confused. Concerned at what Sherlock was going to say. _Had he pushed Sherlock too far tonight?_

Sherlock stepped close, looking down at John, his eyes like a stormy mix of green, blue and gold, so hard to read. There was determination there too, and a hint of the recklessness Sherlock had when he was on a case, jumping into danger.

Before John could figure it out, Sherlock put one arm around his back, the other cradling his head, and tipped him back a little. He swooped down to kiss John, hard and firm. It wasn't tentative or shy. It was passionate and emotional, pouring out years of feelings into the press of his lips.

John stiffened in surprise, in complete shock. Sherlock was kissing him! His flatmate, his friend, his Sherlock.

Those first few heart-pounding seconds passed, and John felt a wave of answering heat and feelings, crashing over him, drowning him in overwhelming sensations. He gasped against Sherlock's mouth, and rose in that swirling mess of emotions, grasping Sherlock like a lifeline, and pushed up into him. Kissing him back just as hard.

A shudder ran through Sherlock, letting out a moan at John's response. The hard kisses were practically bruising John's lips, but he couldn't get enough. Needed more, more.

Sherlock pulled him closer, wrapping him in a tight hug, both of them regaining their breath like they sprinted ten blocks. Sherlock's face was pressed into John's neck, and he could feel the tension still in his back, his shoulders.

"I've wanted to do that for so long, John. It's been killing me for years, wanting you, loving you, but never knowing if you could accept me. You made so many comments, saying you weren't gay, squawking whenever people alluded to us being more than friends, dating only women." Sherlock confessed, his low voice scratchy with emotion.

John nodded, still feeling a bit light-headed, but unable to look away from Sherlock. His lips were swollen, his eyes darker, so beautiful, so beautiful. Had John been blind all this time?

Sherlock sighed, still looking unsure. "There were times I caught you looking at me a certain way, with some interest, but you would look away, dismiss it. Maybe it was just me being hopeful, interpreting things in a way to support my wishes. Or maybe you were attracted to me, but not willing to explore it, unwilling to be anything but heterosexual."

John scoffed lightly. "I was in denial, you are right. It seems stupidly obvious now that I look back. You mentioned some of those times today... when your trousers ripped, that day in the park, that time in the rainstorm. I was very aware of you as a man, a man I was attracted to, and I didn't know how to handle it. I pushed it away and tried to act 'normal' around you. I didn't think you were interested in me that way, Mr. Married To My Work."

Sherlock pulled him to the sofa, sinking down together. "So, you know how I feel now, John. I want to be the person you've been looking for. We already have most of it. We live together, get along well, have great conversations and frequent laughs. We fight and bicker, but we get over it. We have separate work and interests, but share enough to keep things interesting. All this makes us great flatmates and best friends, and I don't want to lose any of that. But can you love me back? Can I be enough for you?"

His openness and vulnerability were so brave. Just when John thought Sherlock couldn't be any more incredible, he shocked John. Put himself out there even further.

Taking Sherlock's hand in both of his, John had to be just as honest. "That kiss was the most amazing one of my whole life, Sherlock. I was completely moved by it, tumbled around like I was in a tornado practically, and I'm still trying to figure it all out. I do love you, as my best friend, part of my family, but I never considered you as a romantic partner before."

John needed to take a deep breath before continuing. "You have been brave and I want to be too. That kiss was too fucking amazing to not give this, give _us_ a chance. We are risking our friendship, but we would both regret it if we didn't give it our all. We do have so much already of what I want, and if the rest is there, I think this could really be it. Be everything." John was scared, but also excited.

"So, what do we do from here?" Sherlock was looking happy, but also worried about making a misstep on this fragile path they were taking.

John gathered Sherlock into a hug, just holding him close, rubbing his hands up and down his back as he thought. Sherlock sunk into it, holding John just as closely.

"How about we are exclusive, dating no one else? Go on dates, make time to get to know each other in this new way?" John knew he needed time, time to adjust to all the new possibilities, to work out if Sherlock was The One. If he was right for Sherlock as well. "Would that be too weird?"

Sherlock pulled back, looking younger. "You would do that? Just date me? What about Sarah?" He waved towards the camera, its record light still on.

"Well, I'm not going to send her a copy of this video!" John giggled, and Sherlock joined in. But soon, John couldn't resist leaning in for some more kisses.

XXX

Three days later, John sat down for coffee with Sarah. "So, I just wanted to tell you that Sherlock and I won't be giving you the recording of our test."

The attractive brunette smirked at John. "Because you were snogging by the end?"

John burst out laughing at her comment, and she joined him. "Is that why you gave the test to me to do? Did you always know I had deeper feelings for him?"

She quieted down, giving John a long, assessing look. "I wondered about it, back when we were dating. You two are great friends, but Sherlock seemed to act jealous of us. And whenever we ran into each other over the years, you always seemed to mention all the relationships that had ended because you kept changing your schedule last minute to work on cases with him."

"I married and have a little girl now..." John objected.

Sarah gave him a pointed look. "You only became serious with Mary when you thought Sherlock was dead. She wouldn't have had a chance otherwise."

John took a sip of coffee. It had been odd when Sherlock had come back, when he was on the verge of proposing to Mary. What if he had shown up a week earlier? Would he have ended things with Mary before they got engaged? He would drive himself crazy if he thought of all the different ways things could have happened.

"So, were you 100% sure about Sherlock and I?" John finally asked.

Putting down her mug, Sarah reached across the table to hold John's hand. "I am still attracted to you, John. But I didn't want to be in second place again. If you did the test and gave it to me to review, I would have watched it carefully. If I truly thought you were just friends, I would have been interested in dating you again."

"Well, Sherlock and I are going to try dating. It's going well so far. Great actually." He couldn't help the smile that spread across his face when he thought of the last few days. Lots of flirting, stolen kisses, and a couple incredible dates.

Sarah grinned at his expression. "You've known the man for years, and he can still make you smile like that. He's a keeper, John. Invite me to the wedding."

"If we get to a wedding, you'll be our Maid of Honour for getting these two old fools finally together." John stood up, and leaned over to kiss her cheek. "Thanks again, Sarah."

On the walk home, he stopped to get Sherlock's favourite takeaway. Impulsively, he also bought a big bunch of yellow roses because the florist said they symbolized joy, friendship, and the promise of a new beginning. It was a bit sappy, but he liked the idea of giving them to Sherlock anyways.

XXX

-Disclaimer: I own nothing.

A/N: Thanks for reading this weird little fic! Hope you liked it. :D

*"The Experimental Generation of Interpersonal Closeness" is a real study done at State University of New York by Arthur Aron in 1997. There was a New York Times article by Mandy Len Catron in January 2015 called "To Fall in Love with Anyone, Do This" that referenced the study and tried the questions with someone. Got me thinking it might be fun to explore with the boys.

-I wrote a story based on these questions for another fandom in 2015. Although I used the same questions, the characters of course have very different responses to them based on their life history, so the stories ended up quite different. It's actually a great exercise to get into the heads of the characters! Feel free to check it out if you are interested. It's called 'Wrong Window' and is less than 9000 words long. It grew into a series, but the first part could work as a stand alone story.

-Sequel? - I finished this fic a couple days ago and the characters are staying with me. I might do a work exploring this new romantic period of their relationship...will they work as a couple? Let me know if that would interest you. Thx!


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